Shock And Ahh
by Picklewinkle
Summary: Bella's life is turned upside down by the new counselor that arrives at camp. She's not that kind of girl. Or is she? Entry for the KeepersoftheNaughtySparkle Camp Twilight Contest. AH, AU, BxE Rated M.


**Shock and Ahhh**

**A/N**: *clears throat* Um, hi. I am embarrassed to admit that it's been so long since I posted a story that I forget what crap goes up here. Wait. A disclaimer. Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and its characters. The twisted mind is all mine.

This is my entry for the **KeepersoftheNaughtySparkle**** Camp Twilight Contest!**

The story has a rating for a reason. Consider yourself warned. And for the record, if you are ever in a dark corner and an Edward-esque man approaches you for sex, practice safe sex. In other words, be responsible and use a condom. I seem to skip over the awkward condom parts in my writing but you should never do that in real life.

I am not at all sure that this story is what the head counselors at Camp Twilight had in mind when they said to write a story about camp. That said, have at it. There is a companion piece that goes with this story called Breathe. You can find it here: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/s/6217700/1/Breathe

Enjoy. Review. Then enjoy again.

**Bella's POV**

* * *

This was my last summer at Camp Shaukinwah, jokingly referred to as Camp Shock And Awe by the junior staffers. We could be a rowdy bunch but only a handful of the counselors had actually earned the right to call themselves shit disturbers, most notably Eric Yorkie, who was recently fired and escorted off the premises after his mischief burned down the boathouse. I was the opposite of a troublemaker; I'd never done anything shocking in my life, or awe inspiring for that matter. No, in that regard I was just predictable conscientious Bella Swan. In other words, kind of boring.

I always volunteered for the cabin at the far end of the camp. I liked being separated from the main building and showers; it was quieter and more private, plus it was the closest cabin to the pool. Sneaking out for a swim had become a nightly ritual, the one rule I broke and one that would probably get me fired if anyone found out about it, but I was willing to risk it. After a long hot day filled with the teenage angst of the campers, my swim had become an indulgence that I relied on to dump the shit of the day.

I dove in and started my laps. The temperature of the water was perfectly warm against my skin. Besides the crickets, the only thing I could hear was the sound of the water as I pushed it out of my way. I could feel the day melting away. Ten minutes later I was floating on my back, drifting wherever the water took me, and staring up at the night sky. The brightness of the stars out here in the middle of nowhere never failed to take my breath away.

I dunked my head under the water to get my hair off my face and swam for the ladder. That's when I heard the snapping sound. A guy about my age stood by the fence watching me. As I stared at him he broke a twig in his hands, recreating the sharp cracking sound that made me notice him in the first place. He obviously wanted my attention. I glared at him; he wasn't someone I recognized. He just continued to gawk, his face expressionless. I got out of the pool and grabbed my towel, hurrying past him back to my cabin. I couldn't help but feel that he watched me until I was out of sight. Jerk.

I didn't sleep well that night. I couldn't shake the creepy feeling that some random guy had been watching me without me realizing. Zoning out was a way of life for me, a coping mechanism. Obviously I was going to have to be more aware of what was going on around me now.

I saw him at breakfast the next morning. He didn't look nearly as menacing in the light of day. In fact, he was extraordinarily handsome with his messy bronze hair and deep green eyes. He was thinner than he seemed the night before but very well proportioned, an athlete's body. It occurred to me that he could have dropped out of the nearest fashion magazine with those looks. Who knew? Maybe he had. At any rate, he seemed rather harmless. It didn't make me feel any better about what he'd done, but at least I knew I could handle him if it came to that. He was sitting with some of the other male counselors, a new recruit, no doubt. He hadn't licked his staring problem yet though. I found it awkward and annoying that he was watching me every time I looked up; I just wasn't that interesting. In an attempt to get him to stop, I chewed a bite of muffin and then opened my mouth and showed it to him. Distraction successful, I used the opportunity to slip out of the dining hall.

I was on yard duty for the morning. Yard duty was the polite name for garbage picker-upper, but I didn't mind so much. Picking up garbage on the grounds was by no means illustrious but I had my iPod and was looking forward to spending a few hours in the sun after all the rain the day before. Of course he had to be assigned to mowing the lawn. I avoided him as much as possible because I felt like I was on display working near him. When I returned my gear to the outbuilding, I heard a quiet snicker behind me.

"What is your problem, Lawn-boy?"

His eyes came to mine and stayed, intense and focused. I hesitated for a moment, but he didn't say a word and I had no desire to play games with him. I turned on my heel and slammed the door behind me.

He was already at the pool when I got there after hours. It shouldn't have bothered me; it wasn't my pool and he was free to do his own thing, but it bugged me that he had invaded my ritual again. I almost turned around and left when I saw him but part of me wondered if that was exactly what he was after, to prevent me from doing what I wanted just for kicks. I wasn't about to allow that. I dropped my towel on the chair and dove in. I was so determined not to look at him that my laps were done in no time. I swam down to the bottom of the deep end when I finished and tried to relax by counting off the time I held my breath. I could see him lurking at the edge of the water, watching me. His hand was down the front of his board shorts and he was stroking himself. Though I should have been disturbed by what he was doing, I wasn't. He looked incredibly sexy. It was the tilt his head. It was the intensity of his green eyes. It was the way the muscles in his neck tensed as his hand worked. The rawness in the freedom he allowed himself only multiplied his beauty. As much as I wanted to watch him, it felt like I was spying on a private moment that I hadn't been given permission to watch. I didn't even stop for my towel once I was up the ladder. I just ran for my cabin. I stubbornly refused to acknowledge what I was feeling, for all the good it did me. Sleep was my nemesis that night.

I skipped breakfast. I couldn't look him in the face with the image of him stroking himself burned into my mind. I was more irritated that I liked what I saw than I was by the fact that he'd done it. Boys did idiotic things all the time, but this just wasn't me. Thankfully, my girls were on cabin rotation. The morning passed easily and I was glad for the distraction of their giddy conversation with the visiting cabin. My subsequent lifeguard duty didn't go quite as smoothly. His cabin had free swim. It was horribly distracting to see him shirtless in the light of day, his well-defined upper body on display in all its glory. I liked the darkness better; it blurred his beauty and numbed my reaction to him. The darkness made everything easier to hide and hide from. At the campfire that night he sat lazily on the bench, strumming his guitar. The girls gathered around him, campers and counselors alike. I stayed back from the crowd, refusing to join in just to be stubborn.

I left for my swim much later than normal, hoping to wait him out. He was nowhere in sight when I arrived but somewhere between the time I dove in and my tenth lap, he'd made himself at home on a lounge chair. I peeked at him each time I took a breath; he was always looking back at me, hand down his shorts again. The lunacy of what I was doing to myself was suddenly overwhelming. He was using me as a pawn to meet his exhibitionist needs and I was letting him. He'd made a farce of my ritual, denying me the letdown that it delivered in favor of working me up, all while he sat back and got a rise out of it, figuratively and literally. For my own good, this would be my last late night swim. I couldn't let him do this to me any longer.

I looked over my shoulder at him as I grabbed my towel and stopped dead. His shorts were unzipped, exposing his hipbone and a sprinkling of hair below his navel. I hesitated, hating myself for wanting to see even more, but I'd already looked too long to pull my eyes away. His head was tipped back, his chest heaving, his hand working his cock relentlessly. He was utter perfection. I watched as his eyes closed and he let go into his climax, pervertedly enjoying the quiet moan and consequential oath that left his lips. It was the closest I'd been to hearing his voice and it made me feel dizzy. I was still watching him when he opened his eyes. There was no shame or embarrassment on his face. If anything he seemed calm, like he was completely approachable, almost welcoming. I didn't know if it was part of his game or a simple lack of propriety, but his manner was completely unnerving to me.

He casually pulled at the edge of his shorts to cover himself and began to get up, but froze when he saw me start to back away. He held his hands up in surrender and sat back down. For the first time I could see emotion on his face. Irritation? Disappointment? There was no way to be sure. I took another step away. His eyes stayed on me, calling me to him. It took every ounce of strength I had to deny the urge. As dirty as it made me feel, I wanted to go to him, or at least watch him again, and that scared the shit out of me. I looked back at him one last time as I left, expecting a smart assed smirk on his face. There was only his beautiful expressionless face and that powerful dangerous intensity that sucked me in. It was getting harder to resist.

I put my head down strategy into rotation the next morning. Avoiding his gaze was the only way I could survive it. I purposely abstained from looking for him but it still felt like his eyes were always on me. My curiosity about whether or not they were was bordering on obsessive. It was irrational and completely juvenile, and I knew I needed to get over it. He was no one to me, destined to fade into oblivion when camp ended, at least that's what I told myself. I wanted to believe I had some control over the situation; it seemed more important than the truth somehow. By the end of the day, I was emotionally exhausted and unbelievably tense.

The air in my cabin was blistering hot and I was a sweaty miserable mess as I lay on the bed trying to distract myself from my thoughts. In desperation, I opened the door to the cabin in hopes of getting even the tiniest bit of nonexistent breeze to blow in. It was the best I could do without my swim.

Every time I closed my eyes he was there, as if he'd taken up residence behind my eyelids. I didn't know what to do with the feelings he brought in me; they frightened me. A stranger shouldn't have the power to change me with a single gaze or stroke of his hand, yet he had. He had unleashed something in me that I didn't understand but couldn't seem to contain, and my desire to explore it was overwhelming.

I wondered if he was out by the pool waiting for me. The thought made me smile defiantly, at least until my brain had at it. It only took seconds before I twisted it in his favor, almost concerned for him because he might be worried. It was pathetic and stupid to assign feelings to his actions; I meant nothing to him. The man in my dreams was nothing more than an opportunist who would use the most convenient female to get himself off. I knew this without a doubt, yet I still let myself wonder.

Feeding off my irritation and the extreme reaction he caused in me, my mind took off in a gallop. I pictured him poolside, lounging lazily on a nearby chair. The image was so vivid it was like he was in front of me. _His haunting green eyes pierced through me. He unbuttoned his shorts and shoved them down off his hips carelessly, letting his hand brush against his cock. Wide-eyed, he stopped and stared at me, waiting for me. I knew what he wanted because our thoughts were one in the same._ I pushed my hips off the bed and shimmied out of my shorts, plunging my fingers into my panties. _He smiled at me and palmed his cock, his fingers sliding slowly up and down his length._ I mimicked the motion and speed with my hand. My mind played with the image, drawing lust on his face and adding me in beside him. _His attention was on my hand, watching my fingers move in and out of my body, licking his lips, his breathing uneven. I spread my legs a little wider, inviting him to me. I wanted his hands on me._ My fingertip rubbed my clit, pressure perfect; I bit my lip to hold in the moan. _He knelt beside me. His hands caressed my inner thighs, coaxing my legs open until I was in full view for his eyes. He gently eased my hand away and slipped his finger into my folds._ I bucked my hips involuntarily at the image, squeezing my eyes shut even tighter to cheat reality. The dream enveloped me fully; my finger became his finger. _He watched my reaction as he worked me into a frenzy with his hand, silently and incessantly stroking me, bending forward and finishing me with his tongue._ The image and thought combined to push me over the edge. I moaned loudly, writhing against my hand, keeping my fingers moving to perpetuate my fantasy.

I could feel the beads of sweat trickling down my back when my orgasm subsided. All traces of him were gone except the gentle pulse that lingered in my thighs. I heard noise outside the door that almost echoed my panting. I had to be imagining things. I listened more carefully and was sure I heard his familiar groan followed by a mumbled string of expletives that included my name. The idea that he was outside and that he knew my name gave me a rush. I wasn't so stupid as to think I was anything more than a free peepshow if he'd watched me get myself off but I was somehow comforted by the fact that he was affected by my behavior, that the affect was a two way street. I slept like a baby that night. Apparently masturbation was an even better letdown than a midnight swim.

Attempting to keep my hormones in check, I kept my head down again, and made it through the morning with very little effort, probably still riding my high from the night before. He changed the game at lunch, leaning his body into mine as he reached for the bottle of ketchup on the table in front of me. A strange energy passed between us when our bodies connected. It was intriguing; I'd never felt anything like it before. He kept his back to me, surely all a part of his plan. I watched him find a seat, waiting to see if he'd look at me. His gaze settled on me as soon as he was seated. I saw no hint of his thoughts in his expression unfortunately. He was very good at keeping his mask in place; I admired his skill. I was always an open book. I went back to my lunch, my mind occupied with how I could get back at him.

I had to close the pool that evening. I collected the life jackets and straightened the chairs, folding the towels that had been left behind by the campers. I brought the towels and life jackets to the pool house and locked it up behind me. There was a commotion in the outbuilding that flanked the pool house so I peered in to see if I could help. There he was, swearing profusely at a pile of Frisbees that had toppled over and scattered all over the floor. He bent down and began to pick them up. Inspiration flashed and I reached inside the door to shut the lights off. Using the darkness for cover, I slipped inside and closed the door behind me.

"For fuck's sake! Turn the light back on!" His voice was low and gravelly, made even sexier by the anger it held knowing I had commanded it. A tiny beam of light shone in from under the door and I could make out his silhouette as he got to his feet and moved towards me. I stayed hidden in the shadows, holding the light switch in its off position, hoping to keep my presence a secret.

His hand smacked at the switch, coming down hard on my fingers. I winced but didn't move.

"Who's there?" he demanded. It was the most emotion I'd ever witnessed from him. I almost wanted the light on so I could see the way his anger looked on his face. His hands came out, reaching blindly in the darkness. I ducked to avoid them. "Bella?"

I had no idea if he knew it was me or if he was just guessing, but I found myself wishing that he wanted it to be me. At least I had proof that he knew my name. The intensity he exuded charged the air between us. It would have been as simple as sliding into his outstretched hands; the temptation was overwhelming.

I slipped past him, crouching low to dodge his grasp, and tiptoed towards the door. His hands caught my shoulders. I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, trapped between the urge to struggle free from his hold and the desire to let him have his way with me. He didn't turn me around, just gently eased my body back until I was against him. I hissed at the contact and pressed myself into his muscular frame, dazed by the energy we created. It was a thousand times more intense than his touch at lunch had been. His arms snaked around my waist and he tucked his head against mine. We stood there cheek-to-cheek, silent, gasping for breath like we'd run a marathon.

His hips pressed against me to show me what he wanted. At least that's what I thought he wanted me to know. I had no fucking idea what I wanted. Everything seemed so surreal. Things like this just didn't happen to people like me. I couldn't get my head wrapped around it.

He turned his face into my neck, nuzzling his nose into it. One hand smoothed over my bathing suit, following the curve of my hip and drifting up my body. His fingers moved slowly, breezing across the bare skin at my neckline. I shuddered involuntarily, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from him. His fingertips pressed into me as he traced the contours of my neck. I could feel the tension in them, in every part of him, heightening with each second.

He released my waist, moving his hand to my breast and palming it roughly as he pushed his body into mine with new vigor. I reached behind me, grabbing frantically for his hips as proof of reality, testing to see if he was just a figment of my imagination. I dug my fingers into him, shoving his t-shirt aside to touch his skin. I couldn't fake our energy; it surged against my fingertips. There were no more doubts; he was really there and this was indeed happening.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and twisted it around his hand, baring my neck for his lips. His tongue was hot and wet against my skin. My knees went weak. I'd been wrong about the darkness; I couldn't hide from a thing in it, and it didn't numb anything except my sensibility. My hands slipped as I struggled with his shorts, forcing them down awkwardly, my ears fixed on the moans he offered into my neck. I pushed my ass back, pressing it against his cock. I knew I was asking for it; I would have begged if he'd asked me to.

He let go of my hair and cupped my shoulder, coaxing my body forward, his other hand grasping my breast in a desperate fashion. His lips were on my neck, wanton and selfish. I pressed my ass into his cock again, urging him on. His foot kicked awkwardly at my heels to separate them. Once he had room, he jammed his toes against my arch and pushed, sliding my feet further apart. He flattened my hands between his and the wall, inclining our bodies further. His want was tangible and I fed off of it, taking pleasure from the way he was bent over me. I used the wall for support and lifted my ass higher, impatient for more of him. He groaned and yanked carelessly on my bottoms, pulling them halfway down my thighs. I'd never been so glad I'd worn a two-piece in my life. He rushed forward, pushing his cock at me unsuccessfully and I whimpered in frustration as it slid across my ass. He pulled back and used his hand to guide his cock this time, sliding his tip inside of me. We both let go, moaning at the friction. He held my hips tightly as he pushed the rest of the way into me.

The connection seemed to worsen his desperation. He slammed his hips into my ass over and over again, hard deep thrusts that took my breath away. His actions were fitful; his hands were everywhere, smoothing up my back, grabbing at my shoulders, pressing into my hips, palms against my stomach. He was dissatisfied no matter how he held me, insatiable and unfulfilled. I felt it too. He wanted to possess me and I wanted to be possessed.

He raked his teeth along my shoulder, biting down on my flesh. I took the abuse without complaint; his temerity was all a part of the urgency. I reached behind me and plucked at his shirt, craving the feel of his bare chest against my back. I was still searching for something that would sate my desire. I pulled on the fabric until he acknowledged me and dragged his shirt over his head haphazardly. I pressed my shoulders against him, gulping for air when his skin met mine. It was impossible but I still wanted more of him.

Chasing the closeness we were both seeking, he pulled my body into his with each thrust. His arms surrounded me, muscles taut, veins straining against his skin. Every sound that left his lips began deep in his chest and rumbled against my back as it made its way out, half growl, half moan. He shifted us, pinning me against his chest. His hips were almost underneath my ass, his cock pressing even deeper into me. I couldn't catch my breath, gasping and sputtering as I tried to process the sensations. He pounded into me with abandon now, whispering a broken message, nothing more than consonants mixed with grunts, just a collection of breath that vibrated against my ear. And then he went silent, his fingers digging into me and holding me still while his cock shuddered and exploded inside of me. I closed my eyes, internalizing the last moments of our connection, overwhelmed and fighting for oxygen.

He pulled out of me but didn't let me go. His arms encircled my waist, holding me lightly against his body. He shifted his head, resting it against the back of mine. The way he held me was strangely affectionate; it was almost too easy to believe the lie I knew it to be. There were voices in the distance. We'd be in deep shit if we were caught, not to mention that I didn't want the rest of the world to know what I'd done.

"Someone's coming. I should go." I loosened his hands and stepped away from him, instantly wistful over the loss of our connection. I pulled up my bottoms and forced my composure. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, too afraid of what I might see on his face and what I knew mine would show. I cracked the door open and slipped out, not bothering to acknowledge him or what had just happened any further. I knew it was wrong to treat him that way but I had to put myself first. I was the only one that would.

It was sing-along night. The campers were gathered around the bonfire; giddy and energetic as they chanted the songs the counselors led them through. I stayed at the back of the group, doing my best to fake a good mood, thankful that my campers were all too busy having fun to notice. I was drowning in remorse. I wasn't this girl. I didn't have one-night stands or recreational sex. I didn't fuck strange men in dark corners. Or at least I didn't until today.

I had no one to blame but myself. I could have told him no or tried to get away from him. As much as I wanted something or someone else to blame, I knew the truth. I wanted him so I let him take me. What he brought out in me obliterated the notion of attraction, more akin to a wild physical desire that overpowered everything - my sense, my emotions, even my control. I didn't even know his name for god's sake.

I stole glances at him from across the campsite, hoping to glean something from him about what I was feeling. It was stupid. He couldn't offer me any opinion more valuable than that of a stranger, because that's what he was to me, an intimate stranger. He was too involved in the sing-along to pay attention to where my eyes were, strumming on his guitar while he sang and laughed with the kids. Every time he laughed it felt like he was laughing at me for being so foolish and careless. His smile seemed even more brilliant tonight, breathtakingly beautiful, gleefully victorious, like he had the world on a string. Maybe he did, he certainly had me one.

"He's good, isn't he?" the counselor beside me asked. I stared at her confused, wondering what she was talking about. "On the guitar, I mean," she clarified.

"Yeah," I mumbled, nodding my head in agreement. The double meaning in her words was only evident to me.

"And Edward's so great with the kids. He's really come a long way since he came to camp."

I breathed in his name like oxygen. _Edward._ It suited him. "That's great to hear." I smiled politely at her, wishing there weren't so many people around to eavesdrop. If she knew him liked she seemed to, she might be able to explain him to me. Then again, I didn't really need to understand him. I needed to understand myself.

I was too much of a coward to face Edward so I snuck away from the bonfire a few minutes early and went for a walk. I landed up by the lake, lying on the dock for hours trying to clear my head. I accepted that there was no changing what happened. I'd made a choice and now I had to move on from it.

I entered the dining hall the next morning back in head down mode. I didn't look for him. I simply ate and left. I was in charge of the hike for the three senior girls cabins that day. I was able to relax and enjoy myself knowing there was zero chance of running into Edward. I had the night off and opted for a granola bar and an apple in lieu of dinner, too tired to leave my cabin. My lack of sleep from the night before had caught up with me. I curled up on my bed with a book but couldn't keep my eyes open. I was asleep before I knew what hit me.

I awoke just after midnight. My body was still programmed for my late night swims I think. I grabbed a towel and snuck a quick shower instead. I saw him waiting on the pool deck when I walked back to my cabin. He waved me over but I shook my head. I knew what would happen if I went to him. I'd learned that lesson.

The following day seemed endless. No matter where I was, Edward was there too. I wasn't sure why karma had decided to make me pay but the universe was definitely trying to tell me something. In one way it was better; it was impossible for us to get ourselves into trouble with so many people around but being around him so much made me anxious. I had to give Edward credit. He didn't once try to force me to speak to him or mention anything in front of anyone. He just turned those eyes of his on me. I imagined a million things he might be trying to say with them but I truly had no idea. I didn't know him well enough to predict his thoughts.

Being around Edward so much had weakened my resolve. I didn't trust myself to stay away from him so I took a canoe out on the lake as a distraction. The water was as smooth as glass and the gentle shooshing of the paddle as it skimmed the surface calmed me. It was the most peaceful I'd felt since Edward had appeared in my life. It seemed stupid to be so caught up in things as the quiet of the night surrounded me. Life was meant to be simple like this night was.

I headed back in, opting to use the dock rather than the shore so I could keep my shoes dry. The canoe lurched unsteadily under my feet as I climbed out of it. After tying it safely to the dock, I returned my life jacket to the storage shed and went back to grab the paddle. I couldn't quite reach it so I stretched as far forward as I could, even though I knew better. I lost my balance and fell, grabbing at the dock trying to save myself and whacking my head off of it in the process. The cold water engulfed me and I panicked. I knew I was in trouble when everything in front of my eyes went hazy and then black.

~8~

"Breathe, Bella," he demanded, pounding hard between my shoulder blades with the heel of his hand. I could hear the anger in his voice, feel it in the power of his hand.

I coughed, choking on the water that came up, and turned my head to spit it out. "I'm breathing," I confirmed, hoping it would put an end to the thrashing on my back.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing?"

"Canoeing," I told him honestly. "And you can keep your acrimonious bullshit about doing it alone at night. I had a life jacket on."

"You could have drowned."

"You didn't have to save me." The malice in my voice was intentional but misplaced. I was angry because he was right. "But thank you," I whispered repentantly. I wobbled to my feet and his hands came to my waist to steady me.

"You need to rest." I knew he was right, but I was cold and wet and feeling rather humiliated.

"I'll catch my breath. You can get going. There's no need for both of us to freeze."

Edward picked up his hoodie and handed it to me, guiding me off the dock. He walked us to a canoe, climbing in and resting his back against the adjacent tree. Once he was settled, he tugged me towards him. I resisted and he rolled his eyes, hauling me into his lap despite my protest.

"I don't need this. You're as wet as I am. You put it on." I shoved the hoodie back at him.

"I'm not the one who's shivering."

"I'm not shivering."

"You're so fucking stubborn," he mumbled, relenting and putting on the jacket. He pulled me back against his chest and zipped me in with him. "There. We can both use it."

His warmth felt good against my wet clothing and I was too worn out to fight with him. I let my head rest against him. My eyes were heavy.

"I said I wasn't going to do this," I murmured. "This means nothing. I'm still going to mad at you in the morning." I heard him snicker before I drifted off.

It was still dark when I woke up. Edward's breathing was deep and even behind me. I unzipped his jacket carefully so I could turn to look at him. All traces of his normal intensity were absent from his peaceful expression. Using the anonymity that his sleepful state granted me, I studied the angles of his face, admiring the perfect proportion of his strong jaw, straight nose and full brows. He truly was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I couldn't resist touching him. I let my finger ghost over his lips, up across his cheekbone and then along his lash line. Even though he was asleep, I could feel the tumult building inside of me as my desire gushed forth.

I tucked my nose under his chin and inhaled. His scent had the same effect on me as alcohol; my inhibitions were dissolving. I pressed my lips lightly to his neck. His normally clean-shaven skin was prickly with the day's stubble and I enjoyed the coarseness of it against my mouth. I moved the tip of my nose along his jawbone, settling it into the hollow behind his ear. My mind flooded with thoughts I wanted to whisper to him, all vulgar, indecorous and completely unbecoming yet somehow justly apropos.

"You have no idea what you do to me," I whispered. It was the simplest explanation for the complicated way he made me feel. I slid off his lap and onto my knees. He stirred a little but relaxed almost immediately.

I could see his whole body now. His chest was bare except for his jacket, his olive cargo shorts low on his hips, the elastic band of his boxers peeking out. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the tiny indentation above his hipbone. His scent and warmth assaulted my senses. It was happening all over again: the want, the impulse, the disengagement. My control was disintegrating; the lines between right and wrong were annihilated. My whole focus was on making a connection to him to attempt to quench the need he created in me.

I kissed a path across his stomach, tiny innocent kisses that used the last bits of patience I had. His body was already aware of my touch, even if he didn't consciously know what was happening to him. My fingers worked to rouse him, skimming softly across his sides. His body shifted underneath me. I let my lips wander up his chest and back down, tonguing every indentation and sucking lightly on his skin. I felt his hand cup the back of my head. He knew I was there. That was all the cue I needed.

My hands went to his waistband. One tugged his shorts out of my way and the other reached in for his cock. I covered his tip with my mouth, licking his skin so my lips could move over him comfortably. His garbled acknowledgement reached my ears, something about 'fuck' and 'god' and my name. I smiled and took his cock deeper into my mouth, running my tongue along his entire length, getting more turned on as he got even harder. I kept my hand at the base, using a gentle twisting motion in conjunction with my mouth.

He gathered my hair in his hands, pulling it back from my face. I kept my eyes closed even though I knew he was watching me. Fellatio was just as intimate as sex for me, maybe because it gave pleasure without asking anything in return. It was like saying 'I like you enough to do this just for you, I like you enough to put your dick in my mouth.'

He seemed to like my tongue on him even more than my lips. At least he moaned louder when I used my tongue. I liked his verbal encouragement so I indulged him, paying special attention to the places that made it impossible for him to keep his pleasure quiet. My mouth moved along him relentlessly. I could feel him squirming, trying to fight the sensations. It only made me work harder. I wasn't trying to be cruel. It was the nature of our connection: urgent, unbridled, almost to the point of becoming unhinged, and I wanted to convey that to him with my touch.

One of his hands moved to my shoulder, trying to pull me up from my knees. I resisted. I appreciated his sentiment but I knew he was close and all I wanted was his release, maybe even more than he did. I alternated between quick short strokes with my tongue and taking his cock as deep as I could, knowing one or the other would be his undoing, pumping my hand as extra incentive. I looked up at him, wanting to see his face when he came undone. Our eyes locked for a moment; the intimacy in the look overwhelmed me. His hand hooked under my chin and pulled my mouth off of him a second before he came. I kept my hand moving on him, hoping to sweeten his orgasm, and watched his expression morph. It was magnificent and powerful and moving. It stirred something inside me, something I'd been trying to block myself from acknowledging, something that terrified me.

He reached behind me with both hands and pulled my body against his, resting his head on my shoulder while he caught his breath. After a minute or two his hands moved between us, working to undo the buttons of my shirt. I gently pushed them away. He planted a kiss between my breasts and started at the buttons again. I swatted them away a little more forcefully this time.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his expression serious. There was no way to explain myself, not without admitting things I wasn't even ready to admit to myself.

"I have to go," I told him, getting to my feet. He grabbed my wrist to stop me. The confusion on his face almost killed me. "I gave you what you wanted, now please let me go." I pulled my wrist from his grasp and ran.

"Bella, wait," he called. I couldn't wait. I only had seconds to get to my cabin before I fell apart.

My tears were the clincher. I had fallen for him. It made no sense to care for someone that I barely knew, someone that wanted me for sex and nothing else, but I didn't know how to shut off what I was feeling. I wondered if I could somehow bury the truth deep inside myself. If I focused on the heat we created together and ignored my emotions, maybe I could survive being involved with him. It all hinged on the disengagement; if I couldn't find a foolproof way to disengage then I had to stay away from him. And I was sure I couldn't stay away from him. The pull I felt from him was too strong. By the time I fell asleep I knew exactly what I would do.

My eyes searched for him the next morning at breakfast and then again at lunch and dinner. I was constantly checking for him. I needed to look into his eyes and see that he was still looking back at me, that he was still caught up in the same clusterfuck that held me to him. I needed his intensity to supplement my need. The day passed in antsy anticipation.

I went to the pool as soon as lights out was called and settled into a chair to wait for him. I was restless and my mind was in overdrive, wondering what he'd think when he found me. I tried not to think about how I would feel if he didn't come. He had to come. He just had to. Ten minutes later I heard the fence rattle. His arms were above his head, his hands gripping the top rail tensely. His eyes said it all, calling me to him, holding me there, berating me with silence. He wanted to know what was up. I pushed onto my tiptoes and kissed his unresponsive lips through the fence. I shouldn't have. Affection was dangerous to my ability to disengage.

"Please, come to me," I whispered, wondering if he could hear the pleading in my tone. He didn't budge, so I went to him. I ran across the pool deck and around the fence, smashing into his body with my arms open. I couldn't look him in the face. I clung to him, begging for his forgiveness with my embrace. I knew I had it when his hands tangled into my hair.

I pulled him by the jacket into the narrow alley between the buildings and moved his hands to my ass. I'd worn my bathing suit cover-up and nothing else. It had the desired effect. He sandwiched me against the cinderblock wall and fucked me. I selfishly didn't bother to consider what it meant to him. It was raw and desperate and connected me to Edward in the way I craved so badly. He asked me to meet him the next night. I would have promised almost anything to keep him coming back.

The days became obstacles to my nights. I only felt alive when he was pressed against me, inside me, making me come undone. We never talked about what we were doing; I purposely avoided it. Our connection was built on fire, not understanding. Trying to talk about it would fuck that up. Besides, I knew he was only mine for a little while. I didn't want to think beyond that time. He made a game of trying to make the sex more personal. I avoided anything that would make me feel vulnerable, letting him kiss my lips sparingly, leaving most of my clothing on, never letting him take me anywhere too private. We found every dark corner the camp had and explored it. The sex was always in public, always urgent and unrestrained. I kept my emotional distance when we were together and came unraveled at the end of each night. It wasn't much of a coping mechanism but it was all I had.

The campers were leaving the next morning. We had one more night beyond their departure to clean up and close the camp down for the off-season. Edward broached the subject but I cut him off, doing my best to change the subject, first with a kiss and then with my touch. He wasn't having it. When he wouldn't let it drop, I walked away from him. I knew it would piss him off but it was the only way to distract him. He pulled me back against his body, shoving his hand into my shorts impetuously. He pushed my panties aside and plunged his fingers between my legs. I wasn't sure what turned me on more, the frantic movement of his fingers or the desperate way he held me, but the urgency of his actions controlled me.

When I was close, he put his mouth against my ear and spoke in a low vehement tone. "Why won't you let me near you?" I squirmed, trying to wiggle from his grasp but he held me even tighter. "Just let me in." His lips tunneled into my hair until they found my neck, sucking and biting at my skin. Once he reached the hollow behind my ear I was a goner. I came hard, writhing against him, knowing he had used my own body against me. In our endless game of cat and mouse, no one ever held control for very long, and tonight it belonged to Edward.

I went limp in his arms, letting him hold me while I thought about his question. It was a dangerous proposition. If I let him in, I would be completely vulnerable to him. He controlled me in every way possible except this. I wasn't sure I wanted him to know that he had the power to destroy me. Yet, there was a tiny part of me that wanted to know what it would be like to be with him and not hide anything, and there was only one night left. I went with my impulse. "Come to my cabin tomorrow night?"

"Why?"

"Just come," I told him, loosening his arms and starting back to camp. He let me take a few steps before following me, walking back to the pool with me.

The last day of camp was always one of mixed emotions, but none more so than my last day with Edward. After an endless day of cleaning and packing, I put in a short appearance at the beach party with the other counselors and then went back to my cabin to wait for him. I found him halfway through the day to ask for a thirty-minute window between the times we left so no one would suspect what we were up to. They were the longest thirty minutes of my life.

I could sense him at the door before I turned to look at him, ever intense and quietly unobtrusive, staring at me expectantly from outside my screen door. I smiled and waved him in. I'm not sure what he was expecting but he seemed surprised when he stepped inside and looked around. I got up from the bed to close the door behind him.

"Candles?"

I nodded, smirking sarcastically. "Clean sheets and underwear, too."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"Relax. I'm just kidding with you." I gently pushed him backwards onto the bed and switched the radio on.

"Mood music, too?" he asked, snickering quietly.

"Kind of. Not really for us though. It will help camouflage what we're doing if anyone wanders by," I told him honestly, crawling on to the mattress next to him

"What are we doing?" he asked quietly. I climbed on to his lap, sitting down on his knees.

"I have a few ideas."

I leaned forward and kissed him, letting my mouth linger against his lips indulgently. His mouth was hesitant; we'd played this game before. He was waiting for me to pull away like I always did. I took his bottom lip between my teeth, lightly biting it before I released it, and kissed him again. He was still holding back.

I brought my hands to his cheeks, letting my fingers slide into his hair while my lips worked to bring him into the moment with me. I opened my mouth, inviting him to kiss me the way we both knew he wanted to, the way I wanted him to. The tip of his tongue darted out and flicked along my bottom lip. He timidly hid the action, closing both lips around the spot in a soft kiss. His eyes opened, curious and questioning. I met his gaze and smiled, realizing I had to do something more obvious to get through to him.

"Or we could start here," I suggested quietly. I moved my hands to my shirt, slowly undoing the top button while he watched my fingers. When I moved to the second button, he stilled my hands.

"Let me do it?"

I nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious, studying his face while he finished the buttons. The longing in his expression transformed to lust as his fingers worked. It felt foreign to see those emotions on his face, and even stranger knowing my body was the cause. He slipped my shirt over my shoulders, running his hands along my skin in the process. I'm sure he didn't intend it to feel so powerful but it was more provocative then any touch I'd ever felt.

He leaned into me and planted his lips between my breasts, his arms around my waist. His hands moved along my back, searching. One settled high, tangled into the ends of my hair, the other low, on the small of my back. I reminded myself to breathe. Of course he knew exactly how I wanted to be held; his understanding of me was somehow instinctive. His mouth meandered my skin and I indulged in every kiss.

His hand moved to the button on my shorts and he looked up for permission. I nodded, rolling off his lap and lifting my hips off the bed. He removed them slowly, his eyes focused on me. His gaze had never been so attentive, taking in every bit of my body. I absently thanked the powers that be for helping me remember to pack a matching bra and panties. Silk had no place at camp, but cotton had no place in seduction.

After his eyes had enough, his hands and lips took over. He touched every inch of me, covered and uncovered, but he never moved the fabric or went underneath it. I felt cherished and precious, and I knew I would hold on to those feelings forever, my consolation prize for surviving the shock and ahhh games we played.

He slid away from me to undress. I put my hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Stand, please," I requested softly, removing his clothing piece by piece when he did. I didn't let myself look at his body, knowing the sight of it would make me want to rush. I'd had his hurried affection in every imaginable way. I wanted slow and careful tonight.

Once he was naked, I palmed his cock firmly and took him it into my mouth. He gasped quietly, momentarily paralyzed by the intensity of the sensation but then pulled back from me.

"Not tonight," he said, kneeling beside me. "It's my turn." His arms surrounded me, his fingers making quick work of the hooks on my bra. He left his hands on my sides, flicking his thumbs over my breasts. He didn't last a second before his mouth covered one of my nipples. I smiled at his eagerness, glad to see I wasn't the only one who struggled with the urge to rush.

His hands drifted down my back, slipping into my panties to grab my ass. He slowly edged the fabric down my hips. I tried to focus on his mouth and the enthusiastic attention he was lavishing on my breasts, trying to ignore the actions of his fingers and stay in the moment, but my desire was way ahead of me. I was on the verge of asking him to take the underwear off me when he eased me back on to the mattress and did it by himself.

I scooted back to make room for him, cursing the stupid tiny bed and its impossibly small surface area. He just smiled and slid towards me, centering himself between my legs. He kissed his way up my body until he was hovering above me, his weight on his arms, just staring down at me. I tried to memorize the look on his face, internalizing that glorious intensity of his, letting it light me up one last time.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss me softly. I reached for him and pulled his body down on mine, holding tightly to him while our connection crashed over me like a tidal wave. I hadn't realized until that moment how badly I needed the feel of his skin next to mine. It was right, like coming home. His arms curled under my shoulders and he kissed me, his lips lingering at mine, affectionate and giving. I'd never allowed him to kiss me like that because I knew what it would do to me. No other kiss could ever compare.

He shifted against me, adjusting his position. I opened my legs to give him room and his hand slipped between us, guiding his cock inside of me. The initial friction was always overwhelming. He pulled back from our kiss, tucking his head next to mine and swearing quietly under his breath. He did this every time he entered me, but somehow this time it seemed more significant. Maybe because I thought he might find the missionary position boring since he'd fucked me in so many other adventurous positions. Maybe because I was worried that sex without the urgency would be too routine for him. Or maybe just because the night meant more to me, and everything seemed more significant. After a moment, he pushed forward slowly, filling me completely.

"Breathe, Bella," he murmured, his voice low and sweet.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and giggled. The irony in his words wasn't lost on me.

He smothered my giggle with another kiss, deeper and more passionate, his tongue gently tangling with mine. His hips began to move; steady and measured, finding a rhythm that suited both of us easily. At least he made it seem easy. He had a knack for giving me things the way I liked them. When he pulled back from my lips, his expression was serious. I wondered if he was always like this and I was just too swept away in the urgency to notice.

"From the first moment I saw you," he whispered. Instead of continuing, he pressed his lips to my cheek, kissing his way down my neck. His body was suddenly tense, his arms holding me tighter, his cock pushing deeper into me. "I didn't think you'd let me get close to you." There was so much anguish in his voice that it hurt to hear him. I didn't understand where it had come from. I only knew I wanted to take his pain away.

I held him tightly, rubbing his neck and shoulders trying to soothe him, but it wasn't helping. His hips moved erratically, deliberately unrestrained. "Edward, look at me."

His gorgeous green eyes met mine. There was so much emotion there that he'd deliberately kept hidden from me. It left me speechless. The only words I could come up with were my truth.

"No one has ever made me feel the way you do," I whispered, pulling my body into his. "I can't even explain what you do to me." I thrust my hips at him, taking his cock deep into my body. He groaned and pinned me to the bed, slamming his hips into me over and over again. He stopped to catch his breath, panting heavily against my shoulder. His voice was shaky when he finally spoke.

"If that's all I can make you feel, that's fine." He hooked his hand behind my knee, raising my leg up my body and holding it there. "I'll take it as long as it keeps you coming back to me." He pressed himself into me, the position he held me in granting him an even deeper connection.

The gratification was so intense that I swore under my breath and then asked him to do it again. He did. He repeated the motion until I was begging for his mercy. I didn't want our connection to be finished. I wasn't ready to deal with the end of us.

"Stop," I pleaded. "Please, stop or you'll make me come."

"Isn't that what you want?" he questioned sarcastically. I didn't want to play games.

"No, I want to stay right here in your arms."

Edward let go of my leg, grabbing my hands and threading his fingers through mine. He brought my arms above my head and held them there. As if the way he held me wasn't intimate enough, he set his eyes and all of that fucking intensity on me, knowing that I couldn't resist it. He didn't stop. He fucked me hard, staring down at me as I blocked and fought the end. He broke me down with deep rapid thrusts, watching me while I came undone in his arms. And when I thought he couldn't hold me any closer, he did, pressing into me again and again until he found his release, clutching desperately to my body as the results of his efforts overwhelmed him.

Edward collapsed on top of me, panting softly against my ear. I listened to his breathing change, slowing and quieting until it was normal; one step closer to the end. I whimpered when he rolled off of me and broke the last of our connection. Edward kissed me softly and then pulled my body against him, spooning me. He wrapped his arms around me and held me, but I didn't feel comforted. The countdown to our last moments was dwindling and I knew it.

"I thought I wasn't going to make it to camp this summer," he began, his voice quiet and sincere as he spoke. "You're the only reason I'm here."

"I don't understand what you mean."

"I suck with words, Bella. You make it worse. I get around you and I can't keep a fucking thought in my head and I land up staring at you like a stupid motherfucker. It's a miracle you ever gave me the time of day."

"Words are over rated." We communicated better with our bodies. I understood that.

"The problem is that you broke me the first time you let me touch you. Maybe even before that."

"I broke you?" I asked, confused. He didn't respond to my question and the quiet made me feel even more despondent. I didn't press him. It wasn't hard to imagine how difficult it was for him to find the words to explain his thoughts. If he was feeling anything like me then his brain was a mess.

"I don't know how to let you go tomorrow," he admitted a few minutes later.

"Then don't." The words felt like a dare, one that I knew was an impossible dream.

"I swear to you I'll figure out something by morning." I wanted to believe him, but I didn't.

"Just sleep," I told him.

I lay in his arms the rest of the night, listening to him breathe, memorizing his scent and the shape of his hands and a million other tiny details that I wanted to remember. When the sun broke the horizon, I gave him one last kiss on the cheek and wiggled carefully out of my spot beside him. I wasn't good with goodbyes. This one promised to be potentially lethal and I couldn't bring myself to end things between us by falling apart. I'd rather he remembered the amazing connection that we'd shared, the one that redefined my notion of sex, who I was and what I was capable of feeling. Even though it would sting when he woke up, it was better this way, easier on both our hearts.

I whispered my goodbye close to his ear, and told him I loved him, and slipped quietly out the door.

* * *

**A/N**: Please leave me some love by way of a review. I would greatly appreciate it.

And if you like the story, please vote for it between August 14th – 20th. More information about the contest and the other stories in the running can be found here: http:/www(dot)fanfiction(dot)net/u/2060377/Camp_Twilight_Contest


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